


collect me with your steady hands

by hanzios



Series: mackson missing scenes [7]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27940370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanzios/pseuds/hanzios
Summary: Jackson wakes from a nightmare after Abby calls him a war criminal. Miller is there to comfort him.
Relationships: Abby Griffin & Eric Jackson, Eric Jackson/Nathan Miller
Series: mackson missing scenes [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026889
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	collect me with your steady hands

**Author's Note:**

> yes, i did already post this as part of my 'protective mackson oneshot collection,' but i tweaked it a little to fit in this missing scenes series. :) i felt like story this needed to be told.

_you came out of nowhere and you cut through all the noise_ _  
i make sense of the madness when i listen to your voice_

_**\- ease my mind by ben platt**_

+

Jackson jolts awake with cold sweat staining his sheets.

Immediately, after escaping the claws of another nightmare, his hand flies to his rapidly beating chest. He’s panting so hard he doesn’t feel the bed shifting behind him. Only when a pair of hands touch his shoulders does he notice he has company.

“ _Hey,_ ” Miller soothes, rubbing Jackson’s skin. The doctor didn’t stay up that night for Nate, who had been at the tavern with Bellamy and the others. After his conversation with Abby, still fresh on his brain alongside the monsters from his nightmare, he immediately went to their bedroom and fell asleep.

“Talk to me,” Miller says, his face close.

Jackson finds Miller’s hand on his shoulder and covers it with his palm. His fingers are still trembling, but it has subsided slightly from his partner’s touch.

“Abby and I had a fight earlier,” he manages to say. “About the things we did in the bunker.”

Miller, always patient, only looks at Jackson with soft eyes, made even softer by the moonlight seeping in from the nearby window. He says nothing and waits for Jackson to continue.

“I said I was just doing my job, a–and I had no choice,” Jackson’s voice cracks. He swallows hard before turning to Miller with glassy eyes. “She said I was a war criminal, and now I–“

“She called you _what?_ ”

Miller’s brows furrow deeply, alarmed at what Jackson had just said. His grip on Jackson’s shoulders tighten protectively, but not enough to hurt.

“It’s not a big deal, Nate,” Jackson says, the truth not evident in his voice.

“Not a big deal?” Miller scoffs, offended _for_ him. “Jax, she called you a _war criminal._ She may be your mentor, but she’s not allowed to talk to you like that.”

Jackson feels his partner’s frustration, he does. But he merely shrugs helplessly.

“She’s just frustrated.”

“That’s no excuse.”

There’s a silence between them for a moment, the both of them unable to say a word, when Miller suddenly decisively quips, “I’m gonna talk to her tomorrow.”

Jackson’s head snaps to him, his hand falling to Miller’s bare side. “Nate, _don’t._ ”

Miller’s eyes are large like saucers, full of worry and concern. It always makes Jackson so endeared knowing someone feels so strongly about him. The younger man opens his mouth to protest, but closes it again.

Finally, after what feels like forever, Miller speaks, “I wouldn’t care if she told me that, because it’s true.” Jackson tilts his head at that, heart dropping at the guilt dripping from Miller’s tongue. “But not _you._ She can’t call you that, Jax.”

Jackson cups a hand on Miller’s cheek, the other man gripping his wrist, leaning his face on Jackson’s open palm.

“You’re not allowed to call yourself that, either,” he says, softly. “You did what you had to do to survive. I hope you forgive yourself for that.”

Miller chuckles darkly. “That’ll be the day.”

“Nate.” Jackson gives him a pointed look.

The warrior merely nods, albeit hesitantly. “Fine. I’ll try. For you.”

There is a tenderness in the doctor’s brown eyes before he leans forward to kiss Miller. It’s soft, chaste, a period to a heavy conversation. The couple then lay back down on their bed, limbs tangled together under the sheets as they try to fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Jackson doesn’t know if he’d forgive himself for the things he did, but the irony of it is, he’d already forgiven Miller for the things _he_ did ages ago. As he watches his partner flutter his eyes shut, falling into slumber, all he could think about is how Miller had protected him for years and years. How he held him close and comforted him when times got too tough to handle.

It’s _love_ , pure and simple.

That act didn’t need forgiveness, at all.


End file.
